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Looking curled into herself, deflated, making me immediately worry she’d overdone it, hurt herself because she was trying to avoid me.
Maybe I should have given her the space she clearly wanted from me.
But I just… wasn’t someone who let shit fester.
I wanted to say something, I said it.
And I had some shit to say about this.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said, tired eyes landing on me, then skirting right away. Her mascara and liner looked a bit smudged and her lipstick was completely gone.
“Tough shit,” I said, watching as her head jerked back at those words. “I want to talk to you.”
“You can’t have everything you want.”
“I wasn’t fucking embarrassed to be seen with you,” I said to her back as she started toward the bathroom, likely just to put a room between us, since she didn’t have her own space.
“Whatever,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” I countered, following her. “You’re butt-hurt because of something that’s all made up in your head.”
“Oh, my God, Silvano,” she said, turning, brows raised. “You can’t just be a dick all the time. Not when other people’s feelings are involved, anyway.”
“I admit I’m an asshole. But I haven’t been an asshole to you. Not before tonight and not tonight either. You misunderstood what was going on.”
“Fine,” she said, angling her chin up. “What was going on then?”
“I work for my cousin,” I told her. “The whole Family does. And he’s got a fucking finely tuned bullshit meter. And I haven’t exactly told him about bringing a strange woman into my house who was nearly killed out in the woods when I was on a job, okay?” I asked.
“Working…” she said, brows furrowed before the truth finally hit. “It was you. In the woods during the storm.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, nodding, knowing I was going to get fucking crucified for admitting this to someone who didn’t need to know Family business. But it was too fucking late now.
“Oh,” she exhaled. “Oh,” she added, mind likely flashing with memories. Judging by her reaction, there was no mistaking that she’d seen the bodies.
“I didn’t kill them,” I told her. Not that it mattered. We all had body counts. “It’s my job to… deal with the aftermath of shit,” I told her. “And the problem is, you saw me. You know what I did. Where the bodies are literally fucking buried. And I didn’t exactly tell my boss about that shit.”
“Why not?” she asked, voice small.
To that, I snorted.
“Because you clearly had your own shit going on. I stayed close to see if you called the cops. But then you were attacked. And I brought you back here without talking to anyone. Then happened to run into the one person I really didn’t want to fucking run into when I took you out tonight.
“That’s all this was. It was nothing about you personally. It was about me lying to my boss. About how fucked I am if that shit gets out.”
“Oh,” she said, wincing as she likely played back her little skit. Her very fucking convincing skit.
“Gotta be out of your fucking mind to think I could be embarrassed to be seen with you,” I said, shaking my head at her before turning away.
“Wait,” she called, taking two steps toward me as I turned. “Did I make things worse?” she asked.
“No. Actually, you probably covered my ass from them finding out the truth. But it’s gonna be a fucking nightmare of people butting into my business now.”
Millie pressed her lips together, looking a mix of apologetic and amused.
“Did I sort of imply something about you marrying me?” she asked, chest shaking a bit, holding in a laugh.
“I believe you mentioned seeing a Tiffany receipt,” I recalled, closing my eyes tight for a second at those words getting back to my mother. Hell, even my brother would be a nightmare.
